The Tale of Aphrensia
by paranoid
Summary: A woman whos family is torn apart by the Trojan War. Written for English class.


Hey everybody! This is a thing that I wrote for English class. Gotta love Homer's Iliad gag Anyway, this is told from someone on the side of the Trojan's and it's a little sad… okay, it's really sad. Depressing even. I still like it. Adrestus and his brother ARE actually mentioned in the Iliad. Check out the Trojan troops in Book II: The Forces Are Displayed. Have to turn this in on Monday and I figured I'd shove it on all of you. Mwa ha ha… Have fun!

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The Tale of Aphrensia  
  
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My husband, Adrestus, was heading off to war. Son of Merops of Percote, he was strong and brave. His father and I had tried to stop him from fighting, but the siren call of glory and honor were far too great for Adrestus to deny. He was like a starving lion hunting for prey, the need and the want so strong that even a pack of wild dogs would not turn his course.

Our son, Aphensus, who was too young to fight, mourned his missed chance at glory.

"Oh, cruel Fates that tear my chance for glory and honor from my waiting hands, how unjust is your treatment. Do I not give sacrifices of goat and wine to you all knowing gods? For what reason did you deem it necessary that I be born only one year too late? Oh, woe is me for my inability to do nothing more than sit helpless and wait." He slumped further into his chair.

"Your father fights for honor," I said, walking towards the dejected figure of a boy almost a man; a wolf pup ready for the hunt but not yet strong or agile enough to bring down the prey/

"You will stay here," I knelt down next to him, "and keep your mother safe. Who will help me pray for your father's safe return if you leave? Two pleas to Zeus are much more powerful than just one." I smiled warmly and my son smiled, faintly, back.

"Too true mother, too true. But I still yearn to take spear against that demon, Achilles, and to fight by the side of the great Hector." His eyes burned with battle lust and hatred towards the despised Acheans.

"You must not be arrogant, son. The tide of battle will not necessarily turn in our favor if you joined the fight. Now, I must attend to my daily tasks and you must start work on your studies. Let thoughts of battle leave your mind for now and let thoughts of science and other learning enter."

I stood and headed to my loom. I was working on a bolt of cloth that would be made into sleeves for my husband and son. My son stood as well and left for his studies.

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It was almost midday, the sun soaring high in the blue sky, when my sons tutor, a man named Pherense, came to my room.

"Where, in Zeus's name, is that son of yours?" He asked, severely angry in voice and in posture.

"He is not with you? He left almost an hour ago to go study." I stood from my loom and headed towards the doorway where Pherense stood.

"He has not yet come to my study and those that I asked told me his was still with you."

Now Pherense and I were worried. We headed down through the city, weaving our way between homes and stores. No one had heard anything about my lost son. When we reached the army official still within the walls, my worst fears were confirmed.

"I have heard of this young man that you speak of. Yes," he pulled out a long scroll with names listed on it; "he joined today. Only a half-hour ago."

I nearly fainted with the words.

"He… he joined?" I stammered out.

"That he did, ma'am." He smiled at me. "Your son seems very brave and his glory will be great."

I cared nothing for glory or honor then; the only thing I cared for was my husband, and now my son, fighting outside the city walls.

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I climbed to the top of the city walls and looked down onto the field. I could see neither my husband nor my son. What I did see was bronze-clad warriors striking out at their enemies with spear and sword. Metal clanged harshly against metal and the sounds of dying men rang out, a morbid melody to the song of war. Fighting went on over dead bodies, men with horrible wounds that killed slowly and painfully. I felt nauseous at the bloodshed.

A flash of gold ornamentation caught my eye. I looked closely and saw man after man fall before the feet of the decorated warrior. Achilles was back on the field of battle and I knew that if either my husband or my son met with him, I'd never see them alive again.

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I watched the battle, fruitlessly looking for my husband or son. When I could no longer see the carnage that unfolded before me, I went to the local temple of Zeus and began to pray.

"All-powerful father of the gods, please allow my husband and son to return safely. Cloud gatherer, Lord of lightening, I ask for your help." I put my offering of beef and wine on the altar and then left. There was nothing more I could do. I went back to my weaving, my mind half on the task as I kept wondering what would happen next.  
  
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I spent the rest of the evening working on household task before I went to see the army officials. The fighting had ended at sunset and I went to find out if my husband and son still lived. When I reached the men, I quickly scanned the crowd to find either of their familiar faces.

I caught a glimpse of my husband's face and headed towards him. When I got closer I saw that his face was lined with grief and exhaustion. He saw me and walked quickly towards me.

"Aphrensia, I have heard news of the worst kind." My husband's eyes were slowly filling with tears. "Our beloved son want into battle today. Achilles joined the fight again today with great rage and power. None stood in his way for he was like the storm tossed seas, tossing and churning in great anger, drowning those he found. Our son was caught in the great fury that was Achilles and was killed."

I sobbed and fell into my husband's arms. My grief was overpowering and I felt as though my tears would never stop. But they did slow, and soon I could cry no more. We walked somberly through the city to our small home. I fell into our bed, exhausted with grief, and knew no more.

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I woke in the morning to find my husband gone to fight again. There was a small piece of scroll with a note hastily scrawled on it.

"My dearest," it started, scrawled quickly in my husbands handwriting," I have gone to avenge the death of our son. If I do not return, give my body a proper burial and know that I died with your love in my heart and your voice encouraging me through the battle."

I set the note down, not daring to read more. I walked to the small fire pit in our home and took a handful of ashes. I rubbed them on my face, turning my skin to a dark black, in mourning for my son.

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I spent the day in a daze, performing my daily tasks half-heartedly, my mind clouded with grief and worry. I prayed to Zeus, greatest of gods, to the beautiful Aphrodite and to Athena of the flashing eyes for my husband's safe return. As the day drew to its end, I heard a great clamor as the city gate was opened quickly then shut again. I, along with many others, ran to the top of the walls. I looked down and saw the proud and strong figure of Hector at the foot of the walls, alone. I glanced quickly towards the gate and saw the army of Troy within the walls. Again looking at Hector, I saw a figure running towards the city, fast as a hawk in pursuit of prey. It was Achilles, the ruthless killer of men, and he was heading towards our city.

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I quickly left the wall and headed towards the army. I searched for Adrestus but was unable to find him. I did find his brother, Amphius, and it was he who told me that my husband had died with a spear in his heart.

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As I write this, I fear I am going mad with grief. I tear my hair and cheeks till my head and face bleed from it. My tears sting hotly on my open wounds but I do not feel them truly. All I can see are the faces of my husband and son, I fear that, soon, rational thought will leave me and I shall no longer be able to stop myself from causing myself harm. So, good reader, do not let this tale go untold, for war has stolen my husband, my son, and soon, myself. It is an evil that will only cause more harm. It is an evil beast thirsting for blood that will never be sated. It will need more and more blood for its forever-parched throat. I hope that, one day, it will die from thirst.

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END

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